Circumventing Danger
by Jam-jackson
Summary: Harry sees a way to change the course of history, but things get convoluted along the way.  This is a Dangerverse AU.  Do not read if you have not read whydoyouneedtoknow's Living With Danger and it's sequels.
1. Chapter 1

Harold Black, formerly known as Harry Potter, rushed into the campus library to get out of the deluge of rain outside. He closed his umbrella with a snap and turned towards the front desk. He was surprised to see a woman who looked a lot like his friend Hermione, although she was obviously much older.

"Can I help you?" she asked automatically, but with a nice smile that seemed to light up her face. Harry thought that he could almost hear the faint trace of an English accent, but figured he was just imagining it because he thought she looked like Hermione.

"I just stepped in out of the rain," Harry said, "But I'll probably work on my studies." The woman nodded at him, and he wandered farther into the library until he found a desk tucked away in a corner where he could sit and read, although it was really sitting and contemplating.

He was in America, hiding from the wizarding world. At eighteen years old, it was easy for him to use magic to forge paperwork saying that he had a high school diploma, and during the summer he took the SAT's—blasted tests, nearly as bad as the OWLs—and had gotten a good enough score that getting into an American school was no problem. He had had a good sum of his Gringotts gold transferred to a Muggle account in Britain, and then he converted it into American dollars to pay for school and to live off of.

Harry had come here because he needed to be normal. For the first eleven years of his life, he had grown up unwanted and unloved, perpetually called a freak of nature, and scared of the strange things that he could do. The next seven years of his life were a drastic change. He discovered that he was The-Boy-Who-Lived, Savior of the Wizarding World, or at least the European part of it. He was hero-worshipped by many, and loved by some. He met his best friends and mentors. He finally had a place, but there was an evil that was determined to destroy him. Not a single year of his education went by when he didn't have to battle against Voldemort and his followers or lose someone that he loved, or both, with the exception of his third year, when he thought that his godfather was a crazed murderer out to kill him, but he wasn't really.

Harry had finally defeated Voldemort at the age of seventeen after destroying all the Horcruxes with the aid of his friends. He didn't like to think about the events. After that, the fame was even more overwhelming than ever before. Harry was unable to be with his friends because of all the pressures put on him by the wizarding world to be a famous savior rather than a person. That's what he had escaped. He'd never had a chance to just be a normal person, not even a chance to be a normal wizard really. In the American Muggle world he was safe. As far as he knew, he hadn't come in any contact with American wizards or witches, and he was learning what it was like to be a normal American college student.

It wasn't hard. Not compared to his past. His first day at school, he was surprised to see people upset to be away from their parents. It wasn't the surprise that they were upset - after the Weasleys, he understood that you could be upset to be apart from loved ones. It was the fact that they were eighteen years old and were apart from their family for the first time. He had been on his own at school since before he was a teen, and couldn't quite comprehend being that close to family all that time.

Students seemed to enjoy their liberty immensely. Harry went to a couple parties, but was disappointed heartily. He'd had firewhiskey a few times back in England and didn't see the point in drinking until he was violently sick like many of his fellow students did. There wasn't even butterbeer, and Harry didn't like the people that he met at those sort of parties.

He started concentrating more and more on his studies, and was amused to see the influence that Hermione had had on him throughout their school years. She'd be proud of his color-coded study schedule. Having spent his past years concentrating on entirely magical subjects, Harry was somewhat behind in the Muggle school. He wasn't even sure what he wanted to do, so he was taking General Education classes. He had a literature class, a psychology class, a chemistry class, a communications class, and a pottery class that he took in homage to his true last name.

Harry was staring blankly at his literature text when he heard someone clearing their throat behind him.

"Yes?" Harry asked with a sigh, automatically reverting into his tones of weariness that were associated with eager fans back at home.

"We're closing in ten minutes," said the woman that Harry had seen at the front desk, "And it's still raining. Do you want me to drive you to your dorm?"

Harry was surprised at her kindness after his gruffness towards her, and smiled at her, "That would be great. I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name?"

"I'm Gertrude Gallagher, but you can call me Danger," she replied. "And you are?"

"Harold Black, but you can call me Harry," Harry smiled a bit more at her. She was older than him, but something about her just seemed familiar to him.

"You don't really look that hairy," she said with a laugh.

Her laugh was infectious, and Harry found himself laughing along to the old and over-used joke. He began to gather up his textbooks, and Danger helped him.

"What's your concentration?" she asked him, making small talk.

"I'm still undecided," Harry said with a shrug, "But I'm starting to lean towards psychology."

"Why?" Danger asked him, looking at the psychology text with a look that bordered on hatred.

"I'm good at reading people," Harry started, "But throughout my life I've made mistakes at judging some people, and sometimes I was right and wish I wasn't. I want to learn what makes people what they are, what part of their mind makes the difference between them being a good person or a bad one? I want to be able to help people to be the good person, and I think that psychology is going to be the best way to do that. I might do a criminal justice minor though."

Danger looked at him with a bit of admiration, "You seem a bit older than I think you are. How old are you?"

"I'm eighteen," Harry responded, "Just turned eighteen this past July."

Danger laughed a bit, "Each year the new students make me feel ancient."

"How old are you?" Harry asked, not knowing that it was considered rude to ask a woman her age.

"I'm thirty-seven," Danger said with a soft smile.

"That's not old," Harry said with a laugh. To him it wasn't. Old for wizards and witches didn't happen until a person was in their seventies or older, since they lived longer.

"Thanks, kid," Danger said with a laugh, "Doesn't change the fact that I'm old enough to be your mother, though."

Harry shook his head, "You already feel more like a sister than a mother." By this time they were in Danger's car, a light blue two-door number that Harry was unable to identify.

"This is my baby, Periwinkle Pericula," Danger said with a laugh, "I had to name her that when this turned out to be the only car I could afford and it ended up being this color. 'Pericula' is 'danger' in Latin."

Harry climbed into the car, unsurprised to see stacks of books in the back. She really did remind him of Hermione, albeit a more fun Hermione.

"Which dorm are you in?" Danger asked as she climbed into the car.

"I'm in Bursley," Harry said. He never ceased to be amazed at the coincidences. He had to end up in the one residence hall in Michigan that rhymed with his living relatives surname.

"Alright then," Danger said, and drove that way. "You're from England, aren't you?"

"Guess I'm not very good at hiding my accent," Harry said with a shrug.

Danger laughed, "Live here long enough and you'll lose it. I moved here twenty-eight years ago and my accent's gone."

"I knew it," Harry said with satisfaction, "I thought I heard a hint of an accen. Sot it's not all the way gone, even after that amount of time. Why'd you move?"

Danger looked a bit uncomfortable, "My mother was a single parent, and it was difficult for her. And then I started being a bit—troublesome, and then my uncle showed up, practically out of nowhere. I don't know what he said to Mum, but he convinced her that it would be better for me to come here and live with him. I know a big part of it was him convincing her that I needed to go to a special school, even though others disagreed and said that I didn't really need the special school."

"I see," Harry said, but didn't exactly. He understood living with an uncle, but didn't understand how her mother had to be convinced to let her go, or even really understand why her uncle would want her. Even after seeing the power of love, Harry still had difficulty understanding familial love.

"Here we go," she said, dropping him off in front of Bursley, "Maybe I'll see you around. Have a nice night."

"Thank you very much for the ride," Harry responded as he got out of the car. "And you have a nice night too."

XxXxXxX

Harry found himself going to the library more often after that night. It was partly because of his studies, but was also because he was drawn to Danger. Not romantically, there were too many years between them, but Harry loved her friendship.

Danger had helped him finally decide on the psychology major with the criminal justice minor so he could work in social services. He had gradually told Danger about the abuse he had suffered at the hands of the Dursleys growing up, and she accepted that as his reason for traveling across the Atlantic to attend school. She also helped him to realize that he would work well in social services helping kids to get out of environments like the one he grew up in.

Danger helped him with his psychology studies, despite not particularly liking the subject after a particularly nasty instructor. She also introduced Harry to American sports. His favorite ended up being soccer, though he insisted on calling it football just to annoy Danger. Harry didn't lose his accent; in fact, through his friendship with her Danger's seemed to get stronger again.

Coming up to graduation day, Harry was uneasy, sad, uncertain, and resolved all at once. He had finally decided what he wanted to do after school. He had had four years of normalcy. He had had friends, although he wasn't as close to any of his friends his age as he was to Danger, and he had been out of the limelight. Now he needed to right some wrongs in the world.

"Danger, can I talk to you about something?" Harry asked nervously, showing up at the front door of her apartment.

"Of course, Harry," she said, opening the door wide enough so he could walk in past her. "What is it?"

Sitting down on her beige couch, Harry looked up at her, a bit of regret in his eyes, "I've decided what I'm going to do after college, but I have to explain something to you first. You should sit down."

Danger sat on the couch, and looked at Harry with concern, "You seem nervous. Come on, you know you can tell me anything."

"Well, you see, I'm not—normal," Harry said after some hesitation.

"Not normal how?" Danger asked with a small smile.

"I can do things that normal people can't," Harry said, tripping over his own words.

"Harry, did I ever tell you what school my uncle brought me from overseas to attend?"

"What?" Now Harry looked confused as well as nervous, "No. What does that have to do with anything?"

"My uncle enrolled me in Great Lakes," Danger said softly.

"Great Lakes, great, anyways—" Harry tried to push on with the conversation, but Danger interrupted him.

"You look thirsty Harry, you want something to drink?"

Harry wasn't sure what to say to the random change of topic, and was unable to say anything for a few moments after because of what he saw and heard.

"_Accio_ glass," Danger said after pulling a wand out of her sleeve that had been hidden remarkably well. When the glass arrived she caught it neatly, "_Aguamenti_," she said, and the glass filled with water from her wand. She handed it to Harry, who gulped it so that he wouldn't have to say anything. "Great Lakes School of Magic."

Harry set the empty glass down and was quiet for a few moments more, gathering his thoughts. "I guess this makes things a bit easier then, since I don't have to explain magic. The next thing is, I'm not who you think I am."

"Yes you are," Danger said, leaning back in her seat, "You're Harry Potter."

Harry felt as though everything he had planned out was falling to pieces, "You knew? You knew all this time?"

"It was obvious the first time I saw you," Danger said with a shrug, "I kept up with what went on in Britain. My mother still lives there. And my sister. I kept track of the wizarding world, even though I was never a part of it in Britain. Apparently my magic didn't register there. My uncle saw it in me somehow. I've never really understood how. My mother didn't even know that her own brother was a wizard until he had to explain to her why some of the strange things happened that did. I would have true dreams and tell them to my mother, and they didn't get picked up as active magic, but my uncle recognized it. Anyway, that's not the point. I read in the news when you defeated Voldemort as a baby. I kept track of the wizarding world more intently when you started school because it turned out that my little sister was a witch too."

"Your little sister?" Harry asked, feeling small.

"Hermione Granger. My mother had dated David—Dad I guess—when she was young, and became pregnant, but he left for University and she didn't tell him. When he returned, I was a toddler and my mother was worried about rejection from him, though she shouldn't have been, from everything she says in letters he was a great man. Anyway, apparently after I moved with Uncle he ran into her in a bookstore, and they started talking to each other again, then started dating again, and it led to marriage, and Hermione."

"Hermione never said she had a sister," Harry said, shaking his head.

"We told her I was her aunt, it was easier," Danger replied sadly.

"But if you knew who I was, why didn't you ever say anything?" Harry asked her.

"You said your name was Harry Black, and you appeared to want to have a normal life. I privately told the few witches and wizards in the area to treat you as a Muggle. You needed this time it seemed, so I worked to make sure you had it."

Harry felt tears begin to come to his eyes, but held them back by a force of will. "I don't know what I would have done without you, Danger."

Danger smiled softly at him, "Thanks Harry. That really means a lot to me. But what was it you had to tell me?"

Harry sighed and leaned back on the couch. "I have to do something. It's going to be something big. I don't think I'll see you again, or at least not so you would know. I—I came to say goodbye. There are a lot of wrongs that I need to fix, and I finally figured out the best way to fix them."

Danger looked at him intently, as if she were weighing the balance of his soul, "I suspected it was something like this. Then farewell, Harry. I better see you at some point in the future, even if it isn't the way you would expect."

Harry hugged Danger, not wanting to let go, but knowing that he had to. He had to take care of some last things before he started on his biggest quest yet. This was the hardest step, saying goodbye to Danger. "I'll never forget you," he whispered into her hair as he hugged her. He broke away and prepared his magical strength for the gut wrenching and magic consuming transatlantic apparition to England.

He had timed it correctly. The Leaky Cauldron was empty of most patronage at the end of the night, and the few who were there were so far gone that they wouldn't notice the return of the departed hero.

"Tom, I'm exhausted, can I have a room for the night?" Harry asked, approaching the bartender who had a reputation for being discreet.

"Harry Potter?" Tom blurted, wide eyed with amazement.

"Yes, Tom. I ask that you don't let word out until after I leave. I understand that it'll probably pick up business for you, but I will reimburse you if you keep it discreet."

"Of course Harry," Tom said with a smile, "Follow me." He led Harry to a bedroom where he collapsed into his bed for the night.

XxXxXxX

Harry had an important stop before he took care of his business at hand. He approached a nondescript house in London under cover of his invisibility cloak and knocked brusquely on the door before he could back down.

The door was opened by a sleepy looking redhead with tousled hair. "Bloody kids, ringing the doorbell and running away. Can't even let a bloke sleep in on a Saturday," He mumbled, almost incoherently, but Harry had had a lot of practice at deciphering his mumbling through the years.

"Ron, let me in please?" Harry said softly, aware that there were a few muggles going about their business in the streets that would be rather disturbed when thin air started to speak loudly.

"Harry?" Ron was wide eyed, but also spoke quietly. Ron stepped out of the way and Harry entered quickly. Ron shut the door quietly behind him.

Harry whisked off the cloak and turned and hugged Ron tightly. "It's so good to see you mate!" Harry said at top volume.

"A bit quieter mate," Ron said softly, wincing.

"Oh, sorry, is 'Mione still asleep?" Harry lowered his voice respectively.

"No she's reading. I don't see how she's awake, I mean, David and Esther kept us awake for more than half the night…"

"David, Esther?" Harry looked shell-shocked.

"Harry, we sent you a letter ages ago telling you that we were pregnant! And then another one a couple of weeks ago when the twins were born. We know that it takes you ages to reply to letters, so we didn't think anything of not getting a reply… but did you even read it?"

"Ron," Harry said before his friend could get angrier, "It can take _months _for me to get mail. If you use an owl it gets sent to my Diagon Alley PO Box. Then it gets sent into 3M, and is sent by parcel post to another PO Box in New York where they sorted out my real mail and my fan mail, and then it's sent by US Mail to my college, where it gets sorted by the schools post office, then finally put into my mail box. The last I heard from you two Hermione had just started her new research job and you had taken down that criminal in that raid."

Ron looked appeased, "Well then, come get a look at the kids."

Ron led Harry to a nursery where Hermione was half asleep reading a book, and two cribs held one sleeping girl and one restless boy.

"Come here David," Ron said, reaching down for his small son, instantly transforming into a young man who was head over heals in love with his children.

At Ron's words Hermione jerked awake and looked up. "Harry?" She asked softly, rubbing her eyes. "Harry!" She shrieked, forgetting where she was until she heard the sound of double wails.

She immediately forgot her best friend and turned to her daughter, "Hush now, Mummy didn't mean to wake you, mummy didn't mean to scare you. Shhhh."

Harry stared at the small family and felt so lonely and out of place that it only clinched what he had to do in his mind.

He spent the day with Ron and Hermione, holding the children, feeding and changing them, getting used to the idea of two children at once—not that he ever planned on having twins or anything—and most of all, spending time talking to Ron and Hermione, learning about what was happening in their lives and the lives of their mutual friends and families.

"Oh, your sister says Hi Hermione," Harry said as an afterthought during one of their conversations about his studies of the past four years.

"Harry?" Hermione gave him an odd look, "I don't have a sister. I'm an only child."

Harry was panicked for a moment, "I mean Aunt. Your Aunt says hi."

"My Aunt? Whatever are you talking about?"

"Danger," Harry said simply.

"You know Danger?" Hermione had the strangest look in her eyes, "I—I've always wanted to meet her… how'd you meet her, and why'd you think that she was my sister?"

Harry sat back and sighed, "It's a long story."

Harry's story, and from there, his plans lasted the rest of the night. Harry ended up staying over, and nothing the couple could say could deter him from what he had planned. So before they awoke the next morning Harry slipped out of the door to do what needed to be done.

XxXxXxX

Navigating Diagon Alley in an invisibility cloak was quite a feat, but Harry didn't want to cause a stir with reappearing suddenly in the middle of the busy street. He navigated around people, being cautious not to bump into anyone too hard. At Gringotts, he waited outside until someone else entered, and entered as close to their heels as he could and not be noticed.

Once inside Harry had to remove the cloak. Luckily for him, within Gringotts, people were too busy going to get their money to notice the celebrity. Harry approached one of the goblins and handed them his key, "I need to go to my vault."

"Follow me, Mr. Potter," the goblin said brusquely, not making a big deal about who it was.

Harry arrived at the vault after a convoluted trip on a cart, and entered it with trepidation, but was surprised to see that even after four years of tuition, room, board, books, and everyday expenses, he appeared to actually have more gold than when he left. It helped that he had gotten such a huge reward from the government after the downfall of Voldemort.

Harry got out the bag that he had enchanted to be bottomless and weightless and commenced to shovel all of the gold into it. After a while the goblin helped, a while longer and he called for reinforcements. After what seemed like hours they finally had every single coin, down to the last Knut, in the bag.

Harry put the bag into his pocket, and followed the goblin out, steady onto his next stop. It was to a place that he never thought he would willingly enter again, but it was the only place that he could think of that the item would be.

"Harry Potter?" The question was asked in shock as soon as Harry took off the invisibility cloak when he entered Borgin and Burkes.

"Yes," Harry said, "I'm looking for something, and I suspect that this is the only place where I can find it. I need an industrial time-turner. Money's not an issue."

"I have one of those, but you can get in trouble from the ministry for using one," the man said grimly.

"I need it," Harry said flatly. The man took one look at Harry's expression and hurried to get the item. Harry paid over the amount necessary before taking the item away and Apparating to Hogsmeade. From there, he walked to the Forbidden Forest, where he knew he would be unlikely to run into anyone.

He looped the time turner around his neck and braced himself. "1922, here I come," Harry said, before giving the turner the necessary amounts of turns.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing Harry noticed after he was no longer dizzy was that the trees in the forest around him where somewhat smaller. The forest was still looming and large, but he could notice the difference in 80 years of growth. Harry made sure that his invisibility cloak was firmly around his shoulders, keenly aware that his 2002 clothes would be out of place in 1922.

Harry slipped into Hogsmeade and entered the all purpose store that was there. He found the men's clothes and slipped into the back to put them on. They were more uncomfortable than he was really used to. Slacks instead of jeans, a button down shirt instead of a t-shirt, suspenders to keep the pants up. He was used to the tie due to years of his Hogwarts uniform, and was relieved to see that normal robes hadn't been too different 80 years into the past. The most irritating change were the shiny dress shoes instead of comfortable sneakers. Harry emerged from the back, taking off the cloak, and gathered up more outfits for himself before heading up to the counter to pay.

Harry was stopped in his tracks though when he saw the person working at the counter. The girl was wearing a sleeveless dress with a very low waist and the skirt had tassels that would sway at the slightest motion. Her hair was short and curly, but still managed to be feminine. The thing that had first drawn his notice though was the fact that her hair was startlingly red. Redheads always got his full attention, partly because they reminded him of Ginny. The other part, he hypothesized, was that it was genetic. The one picture he'd seen of his paternal grandparents had been of a man with messy black hair with a redheaded woman.

"Hello miss," He said uncertainly, and she looked up from the magazine she was browsing.

"Well how'd you get in here without my noticing? Oh, I should have been helping you!" She looked flustered, and Harry wanted to calm her down.

"I was very quiet, and I knew exactly what I needed. I just want to purchase these things," Harry placed his armload of clothing down on the counter.

The girl took out her wand and waved it at the pile, and it reformed into folded piles by type of clothing.

"You're buying an awful lot Mr—Actually, I'm afraid I don't recognize you."

Harry debated saying Harry Black, but remembered how the Black's took such painstaking care to keep track of their magical family tree, and didn't think it was a good idea.

"Harry Potter," He responded at last. He didn't know anything about his ancestors in this generation, but figured that Potter might be a common enough name to pass.

"Are you from America?" She asked him, "Your accent is odd."

Harry saw the opening and immediately accepted it, "I am. I just got here, but my luggage got lost…" Harry trailed off, unsure how travel would work in this time, whether magical or muggle.

"Oh dear, that's awful!" The girl exclaimed as she started wrapping the piles in tissue paper and tying them with twine.

"I don't think I caught your name," Harry said, trying to smile charmingly.

"I'm Rose Prewett," She answered with a matching smile.

Harry ran through his memory, trying to figure out why Prewett sounded familiar. He finally remembered that Mrs. Weasley was a Prewett, and decided it made a lot of sense, with the red hair. Also explained why Rose reminded him of Ginny more than most redheads.

"Rose, that's a beautiful name. My mother's name was Lily. Flower's make perfect names for beautiful women."

Rose blushed, "Thank you Mr. Potter."

"It's Harry," He said automatically. "I'm looking for a place to stay, do you know if there are any flats around the area for rent, or should I try London instead?"

"I'd say it's your lucky day, except you already lost your luggage, so maybe it's just balancing out. My boss is looking for someone to rent the space up above the store. His son lived there for a while, but recently got married and moved out into a bigger space. It's set up for one with furniture included."

Harry stared at her in amazement. "I'll take it."

Rose laughed, "You'll have to talk to Mr. DeRewel. He'll be here in about an hour."

Harry nodded, "I'll be back in an hour then. May I leave these packages here until then?"

Rose nodded, and Harry turned and left for Hogwarts. He was looking for one man in particular, and hoped that he could find him with little trouble.

Students were out of class for the day, but it was not yet time for them to be eating in the great hall. Harry headed through the building to the office of the transfiguration professor.

"Professor Dumbledore?" He asked as he stood on the edge of the room.

"Yes?" The man looked up, and Harry was stunned by the difference in the man. His hair was completely auburn, and his beard was much shorter. Harry was rather surprised to see that Dumbledore was quite a striking man, although his extravagant robes added to that impression. Harry did some quick math and figured that Dumbledore must be about eighty, although he didn't look like he was a day over fifty.

"Hello sir, I'm Henry Potter, but I go by Harry," Harry replied, suddenly glad that he had spent so much time looking into his name before deciding on plain, albeit easy to figure out, Harold Black. Now Henry Potter called Harry seemed fitting.

"Henry, army leader, I think I'll call you General," Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling.

Harry was glad to see the lighthearted Dumbledore that he could remember talking about things like socks and tenpin bowling.

"What was it you needed?" Dumbledore asked, pushing away the pile of parchments he'd apparently been grading.

"I've heard a lot about you sir, and I think you are someone to respect and trust. I was wondering if you could help me with a goal of mine?" Harry hoped that he didn't sound to presumptuous, or too strange.

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed, and the sparkle disappeared, "It depends on your goal. I've been asked to forward goals recently that I do not approve of."

Harry took a deep breath before launching into his idea, "I want to help muggleborn students who might be mistreated by parents or guardians because of the accidental magic that they perform. I know that there are sometimes cases where a child is treated abominably because of their condition. Also, I'd want to help the pureblood squibs that are often cast out of the family and into orphanages. And lastly, mistreated pureblood children. Some purebloods are very violent towards their children, and in the end it just perpetuates a cycle of more violence."

Dumbledore stared at Harry a second, his mouth slightly open and his eyes wide, "Well, you're the first pleasant surprise I've had in a while young man. Sit down, and we'll talk about this."

Harry sat down, but shrugged, "There's not much more to say."

"How would you find these children?" Dumbledore asked first.

"The pureblood squibs would be easiest. There are records kept of births. Any time where a pureblood declared a death of a child we'd need to discreetly look into it, discover if there were orphanages in the area that gained a child, and take them out of there. Perhaps into willing homes of magical families that don't regard squibs as mistakes, if not, perhaps there'd be a need to set up a magical orphanage."

Dumbledore nodded, "Both options are viable. Possibly even adoption of squibs would work for non-magical siblings of magical people. It would be a person who would understand the world that the child had come from, but wouldn't be displaying powers, so the child would not feel out of place."

Harry nodded with a smile, he had known that Dumbledore would have positive ideas of input.

"And how do you plan to find abused muggle borns?" Dumbledore asked him intently.

Harry sighed, "As I understand it, there is a book that is charmed to monitor across England, Ireland, and Scotland for the first signs of accidental magic in children, the book then records who they are. I would ask for access to that book, so that whenever a child first experiences magic their location and blood status can be determined. Someone would go to the parents of muggleborn students. They would explain to them that the children are exhibiting a gift, not something evil. If the parents appear to react negatively to this news we would moniter them shortly. If there is violence we would start to take legal actions to have them removed from the environment, once again either into families willing to adopt, or into a magical orphanage. Pureblood's would need to be watched when their children are young, probably from around the age when they were first able to walk. House elves could be a big aid in this, if we can convince them to tell us if their master is hurting the children."

"You appear to have really thought this through," Dumbledore leaned back in his seat, "There is no book that you speak of, until now we have actually depended upon the Christian church to find muggleborn students. Parents often think that their child is possessed or that there are poltergeists in their house. Other times magical people will observe a child exhibiting magic in public and will alert us. But this book you speak of sounds interesting, and possible, and indeed very helpful. I'll need to talk to Excantar, he is the expert in charms, if anyone can charm a book to be as omniscient as the one you described, he'd be the one."

Harry nodded, unsure who this Excantar was, but going along with it, "How can I come in contact with you while I see if that can be done?" Dumbledore asked him.

"I'm looking into living in Hogsmeade," Harry replied, "So I'll be close by."

Dumbledore nodded to him thoughtfully, "Why are you doing this, if you don't mind me asking?"

Harry hastily occluded his mind, he knew that around a legilimens of any level his intense emotional memories could sometimes jump out at them, and he didn't want to have to explain about being from the future. "My guardians considered me a freak because of the magic that was in my nature. They were cruel to me, but rarely got physical. Unfortunately I know that for others it can become all too physical. I would prevent that for anyone."

"An admirable quest General," Dumbledore was serious, but the tone was light with the use of his rather abruptly given nickname. He smiled at Harry, "Admirable indeed. But, I regret that I must return to grading student's essays. I hope to speak to you soon."

"So do I," Harry said, rising from his seat to shake Dumbledore's hand firmly. He departed the classroom with a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction.

Harry discovered soon that Hogsmeade in 1922 was not very exciting. During the daytime people either worked in the stores or were off at work elsewhere. Women would do the necessary shopping, but it wasn't really excitement. With no television to watch Harry found himself reading a lot, especially as he tried to acclimate to the past.

Harry glanced up from reading _Ulysses,_ the newest book on the shelves in Hogsmeade, and noticed that he was running late. He entered the small kitchen in his flat and started to put together sandwiches, since it was too late for him to actually cook something more complex. Harry hurriedly arranged them on plates with some of the potato salad he'd made earlier that week, and hurried out of the flat.

"I wondered when you were coming," Rose said as the door towards the back opened up for him. "You're spoiling me you know. I should expect you to be waiting on me hand and foot."

"It's no problem," Harry shrugged nonchalantly; "I look forward to your company. My days are pretty uneventful right now, and lunch is one of the bright spots."

They both fell into silence as they started to eat their lunch. Rose looked up from the plate to see Harry's eyes upon her, "Why do you sometimes look at me like that?"

"What? Like what?" Harry asked, unaware that he'd been doing anything.

"It's almost sad," Rose explained, "And very far away."

Harry nodded after her explanation, "You remind me of someone, I think about her sometimes when I'm around her."

"Who was she?" Rose questioned.

"Ginny. My first love," Harry said softly.

"What happened?"

"I—I was in danger for a while, and I was scared that she would get hurt, so I pushed her away."

"Well, if you still feel for her, why don't you try again?" Rose asked, but something about the tone of her voice implied that she didn't like what she was suggesting.

Harry weighed his choice of words carefully, because he didn't like lying any more than he had to. "She is not alive," He decided it would do. Rose assumed that he meant she was dead, when it reality he meant that she wasn't yet alive.

"I'm so sorry," Rose said awkwardly.

Harry sighed, "There should be a better word in the English language, you know that? It's not your fault, you shouldn't apologize. I understand it in the way you meant it, and I appreciate it."

"What was she like?" Rose asked, "Why do I remind you of her?"

Harry smiled, "Well, first off, she had red hair. The physical resemblance pretty much changes there though. She had brown eyes instead of blue, her hair was much longer than yours, and she was shorter than you are. It's little things really. When you laugh it reminds me of the way Ginny would laugh with me at some caper that her brothers pulled. When you get upset it reminds me of Ginny's ferocious temper. She was a Gryffindor, and probably one of the most Gryffindorish Gryffindors you'd ever come across."

"Gryffindorish?" Rose giggled.

Harry mock glared at her, "I've been reading very much lately, I think I've earned the privilege of being allowed to invent my own words."

"Aye-aye General," Rose mock saluted Harry as she tried to keep her face straight. Dumbledore had come down to Hogsmeade a few times, and Rose had picked up on his nickname for Harry.

Harry laughed and shook his head, "OK, you've asked me personal questions today, it's my turn. Why are you working here? I thought the Prewetts were one of the old Blueblood wizarding families of Britain. Shouldn't you be off in a mansion hosting parties and such?"

Rose glared at Harry a moment, "My family is pureblooded, and old. But we're not much like the other pureblooded families, with the exception of my brother Aurelius. He's as bad as the Malfoys and Blacks. He doesn't really speak with Father or the rest of us. We aren't a rich pureblood family. Father works at the Ministry, part of the International Confederation of Wizards, British Seats. It is a prestigious position, but it doesn't exactly pay well. My parents can't afford to support their children when they're out on their own. I have two brothers and three sisters. When I finished school I had two choices. Either marry someone and depend on them for money or be independent. I chose to be independent because I hadn't met anyone that I loved enough to marry. Most of my year mates thought that I was nuts for caring about that, but most of them either had someone that they loved, or were interested in marrying for money. There are a couple other girls like me who are working, mostly as secretaries at the ministry."

Harry nodded, he could see how the Prewett family could turn out an incredible woman like Molly Weasley.

Rose had to get up and help a customer, and Harry watched her as she crossed the room towards the woman shopping there. Rose was his first friend here in 1922, and after the two months he'd been there she was the only person his age he'd come in contact with. She was actually a bit younger than him at nineteen, and was suffering from the same isolation he was. Hogsmeade was filled with older adults, people who already had established families and their younger children.

Harry was still getting used to the younger Dumbledore. Still a man that he could look up to, but not quite the all-powerful man that Harry had known while in school. He was now someone that Harry counted more as a friend than as a mentor, even with the large age gap between them.

Harry and Rose finished their lunch without any more customer interruptions, and it was normal. Their light banter and laughter echoed around the store, making it a somewhat lighter place. Roses lunch hour ended, and Harry began to gather up the plates to go back upstairs and clean and read some more.

"Harry, wait," Rose said, blushing a bit, "I—I hope I'm not being too forward, but, maybe we could go out sometime. Maybe go to dinner at the Three Broomsticks?"

Harry stared at her in amazement. He was fairly certain that she was asking him to go out on a date. His first instinct was to say no. She was an ancestor of Ginny, the girl he had first loved. But before he could do anything his mouth worked on its own account, "I'd love to Rose."

"Great, maybe Friday?" Rose suggested, blushing even harder.

"Friday sounds perfect." Harry found himself smiling as he headed up the stairs. He had planned so much, but it was still the unexpected that was the best.


	3. Chapter 3

"General, the book's done!" Harry looked up from his daily lunch with Rose to see an obviously excited and enthusiastic Dumbledore in the doorway of the store. Harry pushed his plate away from him to receive the massive volume that Dumbledore was carrying.

"We couldn't get it to concentrate just on the children, so right now it's busy documenting every witch or wizard who displays magic in Britain. Once it's done recording them all it can concentrate on picking up the children. Look!"

Harry looked at the book, and was momentarily disturbed by the ink apparently writing itself. It brought back memories of the book that had possessed Ginny. But Harry pushed down those memories and decided that this book was more like the Marauder's Map.

_Cygnus Black—Age 33—Wizard_

_Violetta Bulstrode Black—Age 31—Witch_

_Pollux Black—Age 10—Wizard_

_Cassiopeia Black—Age 7—Witch_

_Marius Black—Age 5—No magic yet displayed_

_Dorea Black—Age 2—Witch_

_Belvina Blak—Age 30—Witch_

"As far as we can tell it's going through families to do it. This book really is remarkable," Dumbledore was staring at the book in admiration.

"This Marius Black. He's one of the kids we need to look for, especially if his little sister has already displayed magic. He could be abused in the hopes that it would bring about his magic, and if he doesn't get accepted to Hogwarts he is sure to be rejected from the family."

Dumbledore nodded, "Then we should see if there's a family who'd be willing to take him in."

Harry nodded, smiling. It was finally time for him to begin his task. After the eight months of waiting for the book to be complete, he was more than ready to begin.

"We also need to check to see if the child is being abused," Dumbledore said, "Possibly checking with their house elves like you suggested?"

Harry nodded, then had a sudden idea. "Kreacher, come here." Harry wasn't sure how it would work in the past, but in his own time if he said that, the vile elf had to come to him.

There was a loud pop in front of them, and Harry was surprised to see Kreacher appear to be somewhat normal, "Who is you that can call Kreacher?"

"It's complicated," Harry said after a moment, "I need you to tell me if your master hurts any of his children."

"Master would be upset if I told someone what he did," Kreacher said, his eyes twitching.

"Especially Marius. Does your master hurt Marius?" Harry pressed him.

"I—I want to help the little Masters, but Master will give me clothes if I talk!" Kreacher looked like he was nearly in pain from his statement.

"If your master gives you clothes then you can come to me, I am also your master," Harry said after a moment.

"You is my master?" Kreacher seemed skeptical.

"How else could I have called you here?" Harry asked him in return.

"Master is very cruel. Master hits all the little masters and mistresses. He hits Marius extra hard. He says that he will hit little Master until he is magic or dead. Little Master gets locked in his room without food. Master says that if Little Master is hungry enough he will use magic to unlock door. If other Little Masters help Marius, then they get hit harder."

Harry stared at Kreacher for a moment longer. "Kreacher, are there any other Black families that are not violent?"

Kreacher nodded after a moment, "Isla Black is not a Black any longer. Her daughter is a _half-blood"_ Kreacher whispered the last word like it was taboo, "She is good, she is kind. She does not hit."

Harry nodded to Kreacher, "Return to your regular duties Kreacher, don't tell your master what you said here, but be ready to come to me again if I call."

Kreacher nodded before going away with another loud pop.

"Remarkable, do you have this much control over all house elves?" Dumbledore asked him.

Harry sighed, "It's complicated, but lets just say that Kreacher was given to me as a gift, but he still belongs to the Black family also. It won't be this easy with other children of purebloods. I need to go and speak to this half blood Black. If she can raise these children, there could be three more good purebloods in the world."

"Just three?" Dumbledore asked, looking at the list again.

"At ten, I'm afraid that Pollux is probably already lost. By the time we get everything arranged to get the children moved, Pollux will be ready to start Hogwarts. He's probably already learned everything that his father has taught him about pureblood superiority and such."

Dumbledore nodded sadly, "Let's hope that you're wrong though."

Harry stood in front of the house of Cordelia Hitchens—Cordelia Whitaker now that she was married. He knocked on the door and waited, hoping this would all go over well.

"Yes, how can I help you?" the door was opened by a woman with black bobbed hair who was probably Cordelia.

"Hello ma'am, my name is Henry Potter, I was wondering if I could talk to you about something?"

She looked at him again, "Whatever you're selling, I don't want it."

She started to close the door, but Harry put out his hand to stop it. "I'm not selling anything ma'am. And I really hope that I can talk to you about something."

She glared at him for a moment, "Fine come in, but honestly, I'm not interested in buying anything."

Harry followed her into the house, and she led him to a sitting room. "What do you want?"

Harry sighed, "I know that you are estranged from your family, but I wanted to talk to you about something…"

Harry trailed off at the look of confusion on her face, "The Black family," he supplied to her.

"Oh, them. They don't even know I exist. What is this about?"

"Cygnus Black is abusing his children," Harry said, "Especially his son Marius, who is five and has not yet displayed magic. I'm hoping that if I can take action and remove them from his custody, you'd be willing to take them in?"

"Why me?" Cordelia asked him.

"Because your mother was a white sheep of the Black family. You're a halfblood. Your father was a muggle, you understand both sides of it all. If Marius does turn out to be a squib, then he'll need to learn how to be comfortable in both worlds. The other children need to learn that just because they're pureblood doesn't mean they're better than anyone else. I could look elsewhere if you are unwilling or unable to take care of them, but legally it would be best to have them go to a blood relative. The other pureblood relatives aren't likely to be much better, so you'd be the best choice."

"How many children are there? I knew Cygnus in school, but I'm not in touch with my family. You keep saying 'children' he didn't have seven or anything, did he?"

"There are four children, Pollux is ten, Cassiopeia is seven, Marius is five, and Dorea is two."

Cordelia sighed before she responded, "If you can get them away from their parents, I'll take them. With the exception of Pollux. If he goes to Hogwarts and is sorted into any house but Slytherin, I'll take him. If he's a Slytherin, then he's not the sort of child that I want in my house."

Harry nodded, "I thought that it might be that way. Thank you. I'll get back to you as soon as possible. I don't approve of children being in environments like that."

"No one should," Cordelia replied, "I'm surprised that my mother turned out the way she did from that environment."

Harry paused for a moment, "I'm not. For every bad person in the world there are at least two good people. The odds are that one or two of the good people will pop up even in bad families."

Cordelia nodded, "I just hope that in this day and age we can find all those good people."

Rose was putting new merchandise out on one of the shelves when Harry came back from his errand. She set down the items to go and ask him how it all went. "Well General?"

"The first battle is won," Harry replied with an ear to ear smile.

"That's wonderful!" Rose said, her smile almost matching his own.

Her smile was for a different reason though. She was happy to see Harry happy. She respected his quest in life to help others, and really appreciated what he did for her. If she was completely honest with herself, she was falling for him. Hard.

Rose really had no idea what to do about it. She had asked him to go to dinner with her, and they'd done it quite a few times since. She didn't know what else to do. She had some hope though, because the Ginny-looks were getting less and less frequent.

The Ginny-looks were hard for her to stand. They were the moments when Harry would look at her with a far away look in his eyes, and she could clearly see hurt, pain, longing, and love in his eyes. But it wasn't love for her, it was love for someone else.

There were Rose looks too, and even while they were getting more frequent, they had just as much power to hurt her. Some days the look was so full of friendliness that Rose wanted to die. Other days there seemed to be something else there, the glimmer of something that would fuel her hope, and then the next day he would be just a friend. He was driving her up a wall.

"Let's go out somewhere to celebrate tonight," Harry was saying as Rose stood there in her reverie, "My treat."

"Sounds great," Rose said with a smile. Harry was focused internally now, there was no telling if he meant his invitation in a friendly manner or more, "I'll meet you after work after I run home and change."

Rose watched Harry go up the stairs to his place with a sigh. She didn't think she'd ever understand him, especially since he seemed to hardly ever talk about his past. The rest of her shift was a blur, and it wasn't long before Rose was able to close shop and head home. She debated various outfits before deciding on one that was flattering without being too inappropriate.

Rose walked back towards the store wondering what the night was going to be like. No matter what she was determined to have fun. Harry was a friend, even if she wanted more she had to remember that he was a friend and they could still have fun together.

"Hello General," She smiled at Harry leaning against the wall of the store.

Harry made a face, "It's no fair that you have a nickname to call me, and I have nothing to call you."

"What, like 'Lieutenant' or something?"

"No, I wouldn't want you to be my subordinate. And you need something prettier than that. How about…" Harry trailed off for a moment, "Blossom."

Rose could feel herself blushing but was powerless to stop it, "It's pretty."

"Not as pretty as you," Harry pushed away from the wall and offered her his arm, "Shall we?"

Rose slipped her arm through his and followed him down the street, but they were headed out of Hogsmeade instead of into it. "Where are we going?"

"That, is a surprise," Harry grinned down at her. Rose felt butterflies in her stomach as he looked down into her eyes, and couldn't wonder what the night had in store for her.

Rose was so caught up in speculation that she almost didn't see what was in front of her. A piece of cloth was spread out on the ground, and candles floated in the air surrounding it. There were silver domed platters that she assumed held the food, and roses all around.

"What is all these?" She asked, too stunned to say anything intelligent.

"I decided that restaurants are overrated," Harry said with a shrug, "Too many people around." Rose swallowed nervously as Harry led her to one of the place settings then sat down across from her.

"So… so today went really well?" She asked lamely.

"It did. I don't think that she's going to end up taking the oldest boy, which is a shame really, but even taking the younger three is a great start. I know I still have a lot of work ahead of me, but just knowing that the kids have somewhere to go if I can get them taken away is a big relief."

Rose relaxed just a little bit. He was the same Harry that she ate with daily, even if they were in different surroundings.

"What do you plan to do next?" She felt it was a safe question to ask, she only wished that the butterflies in her stomach would stop fluttering around so much.

"Next I am going to serve you some of the linguini and clams I've prepared," Harry said, lifting the lid off of the platter that had obviously been charmed to stay warm.

"And then?" Rose asked for some reason that she didn't really know herself.

"And then we eat," Harry laughed at her.

"After that?" Rose pressed on.

"After that, we'll see," Harry said, slightly more serious, "Now dig in."

Rose grew silent as she ate the delicious pasta. Harry really had a knack for cooking. She wondered idly where he learned how to cook, and decided to put it into conversation. "You never really talk about your past," She started, and she noticed the way that he stiffened and his eyes darkened, but she pressed on, "Where'd you learn to cook so well, from your mum?"

Harry relaxed marginally, "No, I learned to cook from Danger when I was at university," He said with a shrug, "I should make you her signature pasta with peanut butter sauce some time."

"Danger?" Rose was confused by the name, it wasn't one that he'd ever mentioned before. "And that sounds disgusting."

"I met her when I was at university. She was a librarian there. We became friends, almost brother and sister really. And it's a lot better than it sounds."

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" Rose asked him, pressing for more info.

"No. I was my parents first child, and they probably would have had more if they hadn't died."

"Died? Oh Harry, I'm so sorry. When did they die? Do you remember it?"

Harry looked away from Rose, but answered anyway, "They were murdered when I was one. And I do remember it. If I'm too close to a dementor and don't get a patronus up quickly enough I relive their death."

Rose was wide-eyed in disbelief, and realized that there was a reason for his silence about his past, but she couldn't help but ask more questions, "Who raised you then?"

"Until I started school I lived with my mother's sister and her husband. I can't say that they raised me though, I mostly raised myself. They were muggles who thought that anyone with magic was a freak. My bedroom was the storage cupboard under the stairs. I lived there with hardly enough room to breath and only spiders for company. They used me as a slave. I cooked and cleaned for them, and their son tortured me. If I did anything to displease them they'd lock me into the cupboard without any food, sometimes for days at a time. After I started school it was a relief to be away for most of the year. One summer when I came back they locked me into the spare bedroom, bars on the door and window and everything. They fed me so little that I ended up getting my friends to send me candy to survive. Later in the summer they broke me out, and that only made my Uncle even more angry with me the following summers."

Rose couldn't do anything but stare at Harry as he spoke. He was obviously hurt by how he had been treated and it was clear in his voice. "So that's why you're trying to help these children?"

"It's one of the reasons."

"What are the other reasons?" Rose hoped that the conversation would get more cheerful if she moved it away from his family.

"Well, if a child is mistreated growing up they're more likely to become violent when they're fully grown. I thought in school that I wanted to become an Auror to stop the bad guys, but then I realized that there was a better way. Instead of waiting for people to go out and hurt others and then stop them I decided to try and circumvent the hurt of innocent people by stopping the hurting of innocent children."

Rose smiled at Harry encouragingly, "I think that is a much better idea than what the aurors do now."

"Thanks," Harry smiled back at her, "It's good to know someone believes in me."

"I'll always believe in you," Rose stated impetuously.

Harry's gaze rested on Rose, and she was glad for the candlelight to hide her blush.

"When I first met you I though that it would be like Danger and Hermione. Girl's that I'm friends with, practically sisters. I was attracted to you when I first saw you, but I learned in school that attraction didn't necessarily count for much. I dated some girls when I was in University—American girls seem to think they aren't complete if they aren't in a relationship—but none of them could compare to Ginny. I was certain that my heart belonged only to her, so I gave up on relationships. I know that I'll always love Ginny, but recently I've begun to realize that just because I love her doesn't mean that my heart has to be closed to everyone else forever."

"W-what are you saying?" The butterflies in Rose's stomach were in an uproar, and her heart seemed to be skipping a beat every few seconds.

"I'm saying that my heart isn't as closed as it used to be," Harry broke eye contact with Rose.

"And that means?"

Harry didn't answer with words.

Rose didn't mind.

Top of Form

Bottom of Form


	4. Chapter 4

"Here's lunch," Rose could tell from Harry's body posture, tone of voice, and extravagant meal that he was stressing out about something. She looked at the duck confit ravioli with a sigh. She didn't mind eating it of course, but Harry's cooking had become more and more fancy as the week progressed.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Rose asked him as he fussed with the food.

"What? Oh, nothing's wrong with it, I just didn't think it was arranged properly," Harry said, jumping away from the food guiltily.

"Not with the food, I'm sure that's divine. You've been agitated and upset all week. What's bothering you?"

Harry ran his hands through his already messing up his hair, exposing the thin scar on his forehead, "I don't know what to do!"

"About what?" Rose sat down to eat the lunch while Harry started to pace up and down the room.

"Dumbledore and I can't figure out a way in. A house elf's testimony won't stand up in court. The Black's can probably bribe their way out of the situation. We have to have indisputable evidence, and we don't have a way to get that."

Rose chewed thoughtfully before putting forth her idea, "I could talk to Uncle Justus if you want."

"Who's Uncle Justice?" Harry asked, picturing a British version of America's Uncle Sam.

"My father's sister, Matilda, married Justus Pilliwickle. You know, the head of the magical law enforcement department?"

"T-the head of the MLE department is your uncle?" Harry sat down across from her, an intense look on his face.

"I'm sure I can get you an appointment with him. I'm sure you'll love him." Rose smiled brightly at Harry, and was glad to see him finally look relieved.

Harry was regretting this decision. Justus Pilliwickle was an imposing person. His eyes reminded Harry of Mad-Eye Moody's as the bored into him over a pair of thin glasses. They didn't move quite as much, but seemed just as capable of seeing through anything. His whole demeaner was hostile instead of welcoming, and Harry felt increasingly on his guard.

"So," He finally said, "You're Roses suiter?"

"Er, yes," Harry said, thrown off. He'd expected to talk about the Black children, not about his relationship. As the stone silence continued Harry nearly quailed before he reminded himself that he faced down the darkest wizard of his time. "Is there a problem with that?"

"Just one," Justus said, unblinking, "You don't exist."

Harry stared at Justus for a moment before bringing his hand up to his neck. "That's odd," he said, "I seem t have a pulse."

"You're obviously a person," Justus said, failing to see the humor in Harry's statement, "But you're not who you say you are."

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry stated calmly.

"There is no such person in any of the records anywhere. I don't trust a person who hides under an assumed name. That goes double for someone interested in my niece."

"I am Harry Potter; I don't care if you tortured me or gave me veritaserum it won't change the fact that that's who I am."

"Of course you'd say that, in hopes that I'd just take your word for it and wouldn't do anything. Well, I'm personally against torture in most cases, but when it comes to my family..." He trailed off meaningfully.

Harry sighed, "Go ahead, torture me." He braced himself for the spell to hit, but having had multiple run-ins with Voldemort before he was even an adult he had lost his fear of the cruciatus curse. It hurt, but when his own death stopped scaring him, pain held no fear either.

Justus' eyes narrowed, "You seem too ready for torture. Do you have some sort of resistance or are still able to lie while being tortured? Veritaserum it is then."

Harry watched in surprise as Justus reached into a drawer in his desk and pulled out a bottle of the controlled substance. Of course, being the head of the MLE Department, it would be no problem for him to have and use it.

"_Aguamenti,_" Justus said, shooting a stream of water from his wand into a glass sitting on his desk. He carefully added three drops of veritaserum before sliding the glass to Harry.

Harry look Justus in the eye for a few more moments before reaching for the glass and gulping it down. He shivered as he felt the liquid take hold and felt the compulsion to tell Justus anything and everything. He held on to a modicum of control though and silenced himself until Justus asked him a question.

"Who are you?" Justus asked.

"I'm Harry James Potter, son of James Potter and Lily Evans Potter born in—" Harry would have continued, but Justus cut him off.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to ask for your help in getting children out of abusive homes. Specifically Cygnus Black's youngest three children. Marius has not displayed magic and is being beaten heavily and starved. If the other children try to help Marius then they get beaten also. I only have the testimony of their House elf, Kreacher, and was hoping that you'd be able to suggest a way for me to get proof of the abuse. Cygnus's half-blood cousin, Cordelia, has said that she's willing to take the children, and I think that she'd raise them in a good environment, but I need strong proof of Cygnus's abuse so that he doesn't buy his way out of it."

Justus sighed, against his better judgment he was starting to like the young man. "Why are there no records of you in the muggle or magical world in any country?" Justus had pulled more strings than he cared to think about trying to track down the young man involved with his neice, but had found nothing.

"Because I'm from the future," Harry responded, calm because of the potion.

Justus remained outwardly calm, but inside his thoughts were running as rampant as a room full of pixies. "How far in the future?"

"Eighty years," Harry said, "And I think that I'm in possession of the infamous 'Spiraling Time Turner.'"

"Why did you leave your time, are you a murderer or something?" At this point Justus doubted it, but it was in his nature to always expect the worst in a person, it was how he had risen to head of his department.

"I came back to stop a murderer," Harry responded.

"By killing him?" Justus perked up a bit, this was the kind of thing that he was looking to protect his niece from.

"By loving him," Harry replied immediately, "And hopefully preventing him from becoming a dark wizard."

Justus had only one more question he wanted to ask, "What are your intentions towards my niece."

"I love her," Harry said, "And I think I want to marry her."

Justus sighed and reached for the antidote to the potion and refilled the glass with water. "Drink," He directed Harry, "And then we'll talk about the Blacks."

Harry drank dutifully, "Do you have an idea of how to get evidence?" Harry ignored everything that he had revealed for the moment.

"I have a few, but none of them are things that I'd do readily. Maybe as a last resort."

"Such as?" Harry prompted.

"Well, the first that comes to mind is using polyjuice to disguise yourself as a family member and take Marius or one of the other children out of the home for a period long enough to question the child and obtain memories from them and place them in a penseive. If you can get memories from the children of abuse and have that backed up by the family's house elf I think that you'd be set."

"That's pretty difficult," Harry said, "You'd have to figure out which relative would be most likely to show up and be allowed to be with the child, make sure that that person won't actually be there, plus you'd need to have a piece of their hair, and that would be hard to obtain. However, I do agree that the children's memories would probably be best for this case."

"Is this Marius the one who becomes a murderer?" Justus asked after an awkward pause.

"No," Harry said, "He's just a squib who gets rejected by his family. I want to help all the children who are abused and rejected. Stopping one evil wizard by showing him love just leaves an opportunity for another person to become that evil wizard. I hope that by helping the children who are abused I can stop the next generation of abusers and maybe we'll have peace at some point in the future."

Justus nodded, "It's worth a shot. Those children deserve a good future."

They fell back into another awkward silence until Harry spoke up, "I have an idea." He explained it to Justus, and he started scribbling notes, giving Harry advice and perfecting it into a plan. "I hope that works. I think it's a trick that'll only work once, but hopefully we'll have another way to get information the next time you're trying to help a child."

Harry rose from his chair, satisfied that their plan was satisfactory. He shock Justus' hand firmly, looking him straight in the eyes, "Sir, I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell Rose—or anyone else—what I told you here today. I plan to tell her, but when the time is right. And I feel that this knowledge should probably remain on a need to know basis."

Justus nodded in understanding, "My lips are sealed son."

"Well?" Justus rolled his eyes at the large group of family members that were waiting in his drawing room when he arrived home from work. Rose was a favorite of the family, and no one thought that there was a living soul worthy of her. Of course, Justus had gone through the same thing with each of her sisters, researching the man—if they didn't already know him—until they were satisfied that he was good enough for her. The man would often go through weeks of torture at the hands of her uncle, her brothers, and her uncle, and as they were added to the family, her brothers-in-law. Justus was always first to talk to the boys, but was usually the last to cast judgement. Yet they still asked him every time.

"I approve of him," Justus found himself saying in response to their question as his mind was off in twenty different directions at once. Their flabbergasted faces were worth it though, as they stared it him in dumb amazement.

"Tell us about him," his niece Catherine demanded.

It was his turn to be flustered, wondering where to start. "Ask me questions," he responded instead.

"What's his job?" Barty asked.

"Well, he doesn't have one," Justus said, realizing that it was the worst question to start with.

Barty snorted, "And this is the man that you think is worthy of our Rose? Next you'll be telling us he's a mudblood." Barty found himself pounded upon by several relatives who didn't put up with that pureblood nonsense. The only reason the family remained a strong pureblood one was because their parents—both pureblooded through no fault of their own—fell in love with each other. Barty had been a Slytherin though, and had drunk in the ideas of pureblooded superiority in spite of his family's beliefs.

"If he has no job then how do you expect him to take care of our Rose?" His brother-in-law Ignatius asked him.

"Harry is independently wealthy," Justus replied smoothly.

"So he just lives off of money that his relatives worked hard to earn and does nothing himself?" The scorn was clear in Catherine's voice.

"I said he was unemployed, not that he doesn't work," Justus said, calmly.

"What does he do then?" His other nephew Douglass asked.

"He seeks justice," he said with all the admiration he could instill in his voice.

"Well he found the quickest route to you when he picked our Rose," Douglas couldn't resist the double puns. Justus just rolled his eyes, "If he seeks justice, then why doesn't he work for you?"

"He may in the future," Justus conceded, "But there is no department for what he is doing right now."

"And what is that?" Justus was further prodded.

"He is on a quest to remove abused magical children from their abusive environments and into loving ones in order to hopefully prevent future generations of dark wizards." The silence that greeted this statement was almost as good as the look he had gotten when he had first announced his approval. "And" He added, "His first target is The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black."

"How?" Barty, of course was the one to ask. Barty had been a year or two below Cygnus now that he thought about it, and he made a mental note to keep an eye on his nephew to make sure he didn't interfere with any of Harry's plans.

"One of Cygnus Black's children has not yet displayed magic and Cygnus has been beating and starving the child, as well as beating the others for helping them. There is extensive evidence showing this truth. And he has already arranged a loving home for them."

Someone finally asked the question that everyone seemed to be wondering, "Why do you believe and trust him so much?"

Justus smiled feraly with a glint in his eyes, "I questioned him under veritaserum."

There were no further questions.

I bespectacled man in a crisp gray suit and graying hair knocked on the front door of Number 12 Grimmauld place sharply, his knock somehow portraying that he was a poncy impatient man. A house elf opened the door, safe in the knowledge that strong charms would keep any muggle from even being able to walk up the front steps, let alone knock on the door. "Sirs, we do not excepts salesmens sirs." The creature said, head bent so far down that the man suspected that he was really looking behind him between his knobby knees.

"I'm not a salesman. Tell your master that I am a magic inducer. I think he'd be interested in seeing me." His haughty tone struck a chord in the creature, and it opened the door for him, automatically accepting his authority and running off to tell his master.

"I don't buy snake oil from pompous salesmen," Cygnus said, walking down the stares with a purposeful stride, "So you should leave. The house elf should be severely punished for letting you in at all. You're a waste of money."

"I'm afraid, good sir, that you are acting under a false impression. You think I am here trying to earn money?" He laughed a ridiculing laugh, "I teach at Caparo Magical Academy, you may not have heard of it, it is incredibly exclusive. It is dedicated to practitioners of unusual magic. Such magic does not necessarily display itself in normal means. While a normal child will summon a toy to them in a burst of accidental magic, a special child is more likely to be able to see a person's aura, be able to instantly understand and alter the composition of an object, or be a true dreamer. None of these things show up in usual ways. My school specializes in searching out the faint magical traces that these special children exude. The only way to determine whether or not the child has a true talent or is only a squib is done through legilimens. We have reason to believe that one of your children may potentially be one of our future students."

Cygnus had gone from insolent to intrigued to eager as the man was talking, and nodded thoughtfully, "I must admit I was starting to get worried when one of my sons was not displaying magic the same way his siblings were. What do you need in order to discover his latent magic?"

"I need a quiet room where we will be completely uninterrupted by anyone. A house elf should be at my call for anything that I might need. You can go about your business as usual while I do the tests. It can take quite a while. I can send the house elf to you with results as soon as I know anything."

Cygnus readily complied everything, leaving him, Marius, and a house elf in a little used study. Locking the door behind Cygnus Harry turned to look at the child.

"Why's your hair like that?" He asked quietly, as though he expected to be hit for asking the question, but so curious that he had to ask anyway.

"Like what?" He responded calmly, not moving towards the boy in any manner.

"On the outside it's all gray and smooth and straight, but on the inside it's all black and it goes everywhere. And you have a scar on your forehead on the inside. I can see why you'd want to keep that on the inside, but your inside hair is much more fun."

Harry let his glamours drop in amazement. He had been making most of that information up, based loosely on the information Danger had told her about her own latent magic. It appeared that the boy at least had true sight.

Harry reached into his pocket and took out the box that he had spelled to capture sound and set it between himself and Marius. "Marius, will promise to answer every question I ask you honestly? You will not be hurt by anyone, no matter what you say."

"Alright sir," The boy said softly, and Harry had to make sure the box was able to catch the sound.

"Call me Harry," He said with a smile that seemed to calm the child slightly. "Has your father ever hurt you."

"Yes Harry," Marius said immediately.

Harry cringed at the straightforward answer, but blessed his luck at the same time. "Has he spanked you?"

"Yes," Marius responded. Harry got yeses as his questions progressed down the scale from spanking, to slapping, to hitting, kicking, starving, and to Harry's horror, breaking of bones.

"Marius, do you mind if I look into your eyes and look at your memory of that?" Marius shook his head, and slipped his little hand into Harry's trustingly, and Harry wondered how anyone could ever hurt this child. "Wait, Marius, why do you trust me?" Harry asked quickly.

Marius frowned for a moment, "Because you aren't Black like Father, or even Gray like Mother. You're all most all white, except for near that scar, but that not white isn't your not white." Harry nodded as he added magical auras to Marius' ability of true sight.

Harry looked the boy straight in his totally trusting grey eyes and said "Legilimens."

Marius was laying on the floor in an empty room, curled up from hunger. The smell of food was enticing him as it sat just outside the door that was locked against him. "Just unlock the door boy and you can eat." Marius could only sob more as he was powerless to do what his father asked him to. As his sobs worsened Cygnus ripped open the door in a fury. "Stop that sniveling this instant boy! You are no longer a baby!" But his yelling only made it harder for the child to stop, and reached down and picked the child up by his arm.

"Is it time to teach you another lesson boy?" Marius was visibly trying to stop himself from crying, but was only making things worse. He mouthed the word 'no' but his father ignored him, "It is." He shifted his grip on the small boys arm, and for a moment it looked like he was just going to squeeze it until it bruised, until suddenly he jerked his hands and there was a sickening snap. "Fix it boy," he growled.

There was a gasp from the doorway, and a cry, "Papa, no!" A girl who was a bit older than Marius cried. Her magic flashed from her, healing Marius' arm.

"Impudent child!" Cygnus crossed the room in a rage and backhanded the girl, causing her to crumble to the floor. "Do not meddle again Cassiopeia."

Harry extracted himself from the memory and stared into the trusting eyes of Marius in shock. "Can I take that memory from you child?" He asked, "Like this." Harry put his wand up to his head and pulled the silvery strings of a thought from his mind. When Marius nodded he put his wand up to Marius' temple and carefully pulled the memory out and placed it in the charmed vial that he had brought for that purpose.

"I'm afraid I have to go now Marius," Harry said after a moment of silence, rebuilding his disguising charm, "But hopefully I'll be back soon."

Marius nodded sadly and resolutely. "Hurry, please," he whispered, with a look that nearly broke Harry's heart. He loaded his things back into his pockets, and turned to leave the room. He had planned on talking to the other children, but one memory from Marius had shown clearly that he was not the only abused child.

"Well?" Cygnus was waiting at the bottom of the staircase that led out of the house for him, "Is the boy a squib, or not?"

Harry debated what to say. If he said that Marius was a squib, then he would be hurt more, but if his father knew what he could do it would make the legal fight to take him away more difficult. "He does not appear to be a squib, but it is unclear what his talents may be. I'll need to come back with some more equipment to determine this." Harry hoped that he had bought himself and Marius some more time.

Cygnus nodded and showed him to the door, "I hope to hear of results soon. It would be a shame to have a blight on the name of the most noble and ancient House of Black."

Harry paced up and down as Justus and Albus were inside his pensieve, viewing his memory of the trip to Grimmauld Place and Marius' memory of abuse. His reason for helping these children had originally been because he wanted to stop evil. Now that he had seen Marius he wanted to help the children for the children's sake. His life with his Aunt and Uncle had been bad, but nowhere near as bad as a father purposely breaking a five-year-old's arm like a twig.

"That'll stand up in court enough to get Cygnus in and questioned under veritaserum. He may still be able to buy his way out of Azkaban unfortunately, but if we can make sure that the kids aren't with him." Justus still looked rather green from what he had seen, "_I'll _make sure of it."

Harry nodded, "Me too."

An awkward silence fell until Albus interrupted it, "Harry? Can I ask you a question?"

Harry nodded to his former mentor with a smile, "Of course."

"Well, how did you know about Marius?" Albus asked him, looking at him intently. Harry automatically shielded his mind, but didn't feel any probing. He mentally chided himself for even thinking that Albus—someone he thought of as a friend—would do that.

"I didn't" Harry said honestly, "I had a friend who did no accidental magic, but her uncle discovered that she had prophetic dreams, and was able to have her trained in magic, in spite of not actively displaying it." Harry thought of Danger with a pang, but pushed that aside. "All of that with Cygnus was improvisation based on her experience."

Dumbledore nodded, "But it brings up something important Harry. We can't overlook people with these talents. This school that you spoke of, Caparo, maybe we should start it?"

Harry stared at Dumbledore for a moment more before nodding, "Maybe we should. We don't have to call it that though, it was just the first thing that came to mind."

"And why did it come to mind do you think?" Albus asked sagely.

"I don't know," Harry retorted honestly after thinking for a moment.

"Names are powerful things Harry. Sometimes things name themselves. I think this place was meant to be named Caparo School."

Justus interjected for the first time, "Caparo, it sounds a lot like Reparo. Repairing… maybe Caparo could also be the orphanage you spoke of, for magical children who need to removed from their homes and have no where else to go? Then it really would be like repairing."

Albus beamed at Justus, and Harry's face was nearly split from his grinning, "Caparo Home and School for Magical Children."

Cygnus sat rigidly in his chair, trying to ignore the outlandish chains around him. He wasn't sure how he got there, but there was no way any of his children would say anything against him for fear of what he would do when he got home, and the charges would have to be dropped. Then he would hunt down the person who caused him to be there.

"Does your father hurt you?" A man with dark hair asked Pollux, his first born.

"No, he doesn't," Pollux said stiffly, acting much older than he was.

"Does he ever deprive you of food," The man asked him further.

"He doesn't deprive me of anything. I get everything that I want." Pollux responded immediately.

"And do you display magic?"

"Of course I do, I'm no squib!" Pollux was suitably offended, and Cygnus couldn't help but smile at his first—and favorite—son.

"Very good, you may return to your seat. Marius, please come on up here."

Cygnus scowled at the brat as he walked towards the front of the room with a sunny smile. If he knew what was good for him he would respond as his brother did.

"Marius, does your father hurt you?"

"Yes," Marius replied solemnly.

"How does he hurt you?"

"He hits me, he curses me, he burns me, h-he breaks my arms…" The courtroom gasped as Marius listed his abuse.

"And does he ever deprive you of food?"

"Yes."

"And do you display magic?"

Marius shook his head sadly.

"But are you magic?"

Marius brightened and nodded eagerly.

"Objection!" shouted Cygnus' lawyer, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Overruled," the old wizard proceeding said, "Child, how can you say that you are magical if you don't display magic?"

Marius frowned for a moment, "I can see things that others can't. People seem to be different colors, bad people are dark, and good people are light. Mad people are red and happy people are yellow. Sad people are blue… And sometimes I can see things that others can't. And weird things. Like when I saw the bird that was also a lady. She said that she was an animagus, but I could tell when she was a bird that she wasn't just a bird…"

"As you can see," the dark hair man said as Marius trailed off, "He has passive magic, not active magic. But his father tried to force him to display magic through abuse."

The old man nodded, "Bring forward the veritaserum."

Cygnus was so stunned by this change in events that he didn't even put up a fight when he was brought the liquid.

The old man addressed him, "Cygnus, have you ever abused your son Pollux?"

"No," Cygnus said involuntarily.

"Marius?"

"Yes," The answer felt like it was being ripped from the very center of his being.

"Cassiopeia?"

"Yes."

"Dorea?"

"Yes."

"I move that the children be taken away from your wife, and given to the next of kin."

"Sir," The dark haired man interjected again, "If I may. A relative has already expressed an interest in taking the children into her home, and ensuring that they would have a favorable environment to grow up in."

"What relative?" the man asked, looking at the family records in front of him.

"Cordelia Whitaker sir."

"She's not on this list as a relative son."

"She's the daughter of Isla Black, Cygnus' aunt."

"Is this true Cygnus?"

Still under the influence on the drug Cygnus was forced to reply, "Yes."

"Very well, the children will be moved to the custody of Cordelia Whitaker."

"We did it Rose!" Harry swept Rose up into a spinning hug, and Rose couldn't help but laugh at his exuberance. "Those kids, I saved them from their dad!"

"That's wonderful Harry, now put me down."

Harry laughed as he set her down. "Thank goodness for Uncle Justus. I don't know if I could have done it without him."

Rose quirked an eyebrow, "Uncle Justus, huh? He's not _your _uncle." 'Yet…' she added mentally.

Harry looked sheepish, "Sorry, I tend to adopt friendly relatives. After my upbringing and all…" Harry trailed off.

"He seems quite taken with you. It's almost unnerving. He's never liked any of my sister's suitors as much as you."

"Guess I must just be better than all of them then," Harry said cockily, but couldn't keep a straight face and burst out laughing.

"I just think the two of you are a lot alike," Rose said, shaking her head.

"I just hope the rest of your family likes me as much," Harry said, smiling down at her softly.

"Me too," Rose said, just before Harry's lips covered her own, and made any more talking difficult for the time being.


	5. Chapter 5

Ignatius Prewett was reading the morning edition of the Daily Prophet and eating his breakfast when an owl flew in the window. It was a snowy owl, a male by the looks of it, and he wondered idly what its name was. Distractedly he grabbed for the note with one hand while still reading the paper. He fumbled to get the note off, and earned himself a nip for his treatment of the owl. With a sigh he set the paper down, untied the note, and fed the owl a piece of his bacon.

"Go along now," He said. The owl hopped off the table and flew out the way it had come, leaving Ignatius with the dilemma of deciding whether to finish his paper, or read the note from an unknown private owl.

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Prewett,_

_We have not met yet, but I think that you've already heard about me. I am Harry Potter, Rose's suitor. I am writing you because I am hoping that we can meet. I am hosting a dinner party this Friday evening in Hogwarts at eight o'clock, and would be honored if you and your wife would attend._

_Harry Potter_

Ignatius rolled the parchment back up, tapping the table with it idly. He wasn't sure how he felt about Rose's suitor wanting to meet them at a public function. It seemed rather improper to him. At the same time, he could imagine why it would feel safer to him to meet them with 'allies' at his side. He sighed.

"Monica dear," He called, knowing that she was in the other room with her knitting where she could still hear him. "We've been invited to a dinner party on Friday."

Monica sighed so heavily that Ignatius could hear it from the kitchen, and he couldn't help but smile slightly at her theatrics. "Dear, you know I don't like dinner parties. I'd rather eat at home with my family then be somewhere where I know maybe one or two people."

"I know darling, but that Potter boy invited us to this one," Ignatius said in a neutral voice.

Monica rose from her chair and crossed the threshold into the room. Disapproval was written clearly across her face, "Did he now? Well, I suppose we can't decline an invitation like that, now can we?"

Ignatius shook his head, and in doing so caught a glance at the clock in the kitchen. It wasn't the family heirloom that kept track of family members that caught his eye (all the arrows were safely on home or work). It was the clock that said "You're running late" that caught his eye.

"I've got to go," Ignatius said, rising to his feet and kissing her on the cheek before striding out of the house to Apparate to work.

XxXxXxXxX

Ignatius and Monica walked through the front doors of Hogwarts as though they owned the place, exuding confidence that they actually lacked. They were a pureblood family, so could stand their ground in that way if it became necessary, but they were not rich like other pureblood families, and his biggest worry was that they'd be in a roomful of men and women that all looked down their noses at them. He didn't envy him; he just knew he'd be uncomfortable around people like that.

"If sir and madam will follow me?" A house elf met them as the doors opened. It led them to a room that was almost entirely empty.

"Hello Ignatius," Justus said as they entered the room, stopping mid-sentence as he spoke to Albus.

"Hello Justus," Ignatius said, feeling relieved, "And hello Matilda."

"Father?" Bartimius and his fiancé Dahlia Longbottom were right behind him.

"What kind of dinner party is this?" Monica asked Justus.

"The best kind," Albus said with a twinkle in his eye.

"A gathering of friends," Justus finished.

After Barty arrived Cynthia and her husband Harland Gamp, Muriel and Buford Flint, Catherine, and finally Douglas and his wife Esther Fortescue. Every seat at the table was filled but one.

As the last of the Prewett family minus Rose was seated Harry seemed to appear out of thin air.

"Greetings everyone. My name is Henry Potter, but I go by Harry. If you call me Henry I doubt that I'd respond. This dinner party tonight is so that we can get to know each other. Now, please, enjoy the appetizers." Harry clapped his hands elegantly, but with gusto, and food appeared on the golden plates in front of the guests.

"What is all this?" Catherine asked hesitantly after no one made a move to try any of the exotic looking appetizers in front of them.

"Those are Sicilian Firesticks, they're a bit spicy," Harry said, pointing to one plate, "Next to them is Calamari Alla Griglia. Please don't tell the Giant Squid, he might be upset. There's bruschetta and antipasti trio." Harry smiled as everyone started to reach for the food in front of them.

"You must have had house elves slaving all day to make this food for us," Esther said with a hint of distaste, not reaching for the food before her.

"Oh no!" Exclaimed the single House Elf standing near the entrance, "Mr. Potter wouldn't let us do the cooking!"

"Then you wasted money on having food catered to us? Your money isn't going to impress us," Muriel said with a sniff. She was safe in her (incorrect) belief that there was no way Harry could have more money than she had married into.

"No!" The house elf interjected again, "Mr. Potter cooked all day for you! He wouldn't let us help at all, and he's good!" The awe was so apparent in the house elf's tone that Harry started to blush and look down at his plate. He had planned on telling them in an offhand manner that he had cooked the food that they ate, not have it declared by a besotted house elf.

"This food really is phenomenal mate," Douglas said cheerfully, disrupting the awkward atmosphere, "You could open a restaurant!"

Harry smiled at him, feeling the same sense of ease that he felt around Fred, George, Bill and Charlie. He wondered idly if that meant that geniality was a Prewett trait and not a Weasley trait before turning back to the conversation. "Maybe some day. Right now I have more important things to pursue than fine dining."

"That's right," Bartimius sneered, "Saving the world one child at a time."

Harry couldn't miss the tone of voice, but was perplexed all the same to hear that sort of reaction from a Prewett. He looked up, eyes sparking, "If I save a child I save _their _world."

"That's all fine and well," Bartimius said, "But if you're so interested in being a hero, why don't you just work for Uncle Justus like normal people and do some good and get rid of criminals?"

Harry was confused now by this statement, "But I am!"

Bartimius laughed derisively, "No you aren't. You're removing children from their parents, from good homes. How is that doing them any good?"

Harry sighed. He'd received some unwelcome attention after the Black trial, and just like his fifth year, his name was smeared across the press—probably from money out of the Black bank vault. "Do you know what he did to Marius?"

"The Prophet says that all he did was try and teach his son," Barty said with a sniff.

Before Harry could even respond, Justus was speaking up. "I saw one of that child's memories Barty. And not one of the ones that the Wizengamot saw. Another one. He used a brand on Marius. A brand!" He struck the table with his fist, causing all the dishes to rattle, "He burnt Marius with the Insignia of The House of Black on both wrists, on the tender side, and on each of his shoulder blades! That child did absolutely _nothing _to deserve treatment like that."

Barty quieted down as Justus sat back down, and seemed to be thinking hard. The mood was disrupted though, and people began to pick listlessly at the appetizers.

Harry stood up from his seat, gaining everyone's attention, "Cheery, if you could take away the dishes? And Catherine, do you think you could help me to bring the entrée in?"

Catherine rose without a word and followed Harry out of the room and down the hallway a ways. Harry stopped when he heard Catherine halt behind him, and turned towards her questioningly.

"Don't even think of touching me," She said softly but with force.

"What? Why would I touch you?"

"You're just like him. Away from Rose and then at the first opportunity you try to get alone with me. Well, I didn't let him do anything, and I won't let you either! I won't do that to myself, or to Rose!"

Harry was surprised by the quiet girl's outburst, "I really don't know what you're talking about. I asked you to help me bring the entrée in, nothing else!"

Catherin scoffed, "Yeah, right. Like you need help bringing in the entrée when you could bring it in with a wave of your wand."

Harry looked at her calmly, "I lived as a muggle for four years. I realized, once upon a time, that I was becoming too dependent on magic for little things. Was it really that much harder for me to get up and grab something instead of using _Accio_? And what happened if you got stranded in a blizzard and broke your wand? If you didn't know the muggle way to build a fire you'd die. So I started to do simple things the muggle way. Is that so odd?"

"So you had absolutely no ulterior motives when you asked me to come out here?" Catherine asked him.

"Um, no," Harry said avoiding eye contact.

"I knew it!" Catherin said angrily, but before she could say another word Harry cut her off.

"I asked you to come out here because I know how important you are to Rose, and I wanted you to know that my intentions towards her were pure. Although now it seems I also have to convince you that my intentions towards you are pure. Although, I want to know who it is you were talking about. Who did do that to you? I'll throttle them!"

Catherine seemed bemused by Harry's changing emotions and answered without thinking, "Muriel's husband Buford."

"What?" Harry's quiet voice belied his anger, "How could your _brother-in-law _do such a thing? Doesn't he love his wife?"

"Why should he," Catherine asked with a sigh, "She doesn't love him."

"What?" It was Harry's turn to be surprised.

"She married him for his money; he married her because she was a pureblood. That's all there is to it."

"Once again I'm glad that my father wasn't a bigot and married a muggle-born. Those have to be two of the stupidest reasons I've ever heard of for marrying."

"I agree," Catherine said with a hint of a smile as they resumed walking down the hallway to the Hogwarts kitchen. Harry tickled the pear absently, letting the door swing open. All the house elves turned to stare at Harry in admiration as he stepped in. He ignored it he strode over to the massive oven that held the biggest goose that Harry could buy. He levitated it with his wand onto a platter on a cart before covering it with a silver dome.

"Give me a hand pushing this?" He asked, "It's really hard to steer it well."

Catherine sighed and started pushing the cart with Harry, the two of them managing to steer what would otherwise be completely unwieldy. "I haven't completely made up my mind Harry," She said when they were closing in on the room where everyone was waiting for them, "But you don't seem too bad."

Harry smiled in acknowledgement of her statement as he used his wand to flick the door open. The murmurs of appreciation of the goose made his smile even bigger as Harry began to carve it and serve it to everyone.

As he sat down, small talk resumed.

"How'd you meet Rose?" Esther asked as they ate.

"When I arrived here from America I had barely any possessions with me, so I stopped into the store where she works. I—" Harry hesitated, "I have a weakness for redheads, but that doesn't mean that I forgot my manners or anything. I smiled at her, and made small talk. Somehow we got around to the fact that I needed a place to stay. Her boss was looking for someone to rent the room above the store. It was perfect for me, so I moved in there. Because of that I saw Rose often, and we became friends, and more."

Esther smiled at Harry, seeing the expression in his eyes. They were full of love and wonder that a girl like Rose could love him. In her eyes he was already acceptable.

Her husband, however, still wasn't certain. "Harry, I was wondering if I could have a word with you?"

"Of course Douglas," Harry said benignly, hiding his nervousness. Even after telling Justus and, of course, Rose about his time traveling, he was nervous to be talking to someone about it, but he had decided that in order to gain her family's full trust certain members had to know the full truth. Justus gave him a surreptitious thumbs up as they left the room; Harry nodded in thanks, barely feeling any better.

"What are your intentions?" Douglas asked once they were in an adjoining room with two comfortable chairs and a roaring fire.

"I intend to continue helping children to prevent a generation of dark wizards, hopefully marry the woman I love, and raise a family with all the love that I didn't get to have." Harry looked Douglas strait in the eyes as he spoke, trying to prove he meant what he said.

Douglas shook his head, "There's something a bit off about you, and I won't rest until I know what it is. You… you don't seem dark to me, but there's something dark in your past, and I won't let your past hurt Rose."

Harry slumped in his seat, "I won't let my past hurt Rose either. Rose, or Ron, or Hermione or Danger or… Ginny." He said the last name softly enough that Douglas barely caught it.

"Who're they?" he said suspiciously.

"Some of my best friends from school," Harry said simply. "I want to save them, protect them. I want their future to be free of darkness…"

Douglas sat back, "So you came to Britain to save children?"

Harry looked at Douglas carefully, "I can trust you?"

Douglas shifted uneasily, uncertain he actually wanted to hear what Harry had to say, but needing to hear, for Roses sake, he nodded.

"I lived in America for four years, before that I was in Britain. I went to Hogwarts, I was a Gryffindor."

"Why'd you lie?" Douglas asked first, then paused, "You're lying again. I was in Gryffindor when you say you were. You were never there."

Harry straightened up in his seat, "I, Harry James Potter, was born July 31, 1980. October 31, 1981, my parents were murdered by the Dark wizard Voldemort." To a shocked and appalled Douglas Prewett Harry described his entire life succinctly, leading up to his decision to get away from all the unwanted fame after defeating Voldemort and heading to America, then his decision to go back in time.

"So…what are you going to do now that you're back in time?" Douglas asked weakly.

"My most important mission is to adopt Tom Marvolo Riddle when he is an infant, and raise him in a loving environment to prevent him from becoming Voldemort."

"Do—do you know what happens to me, to my family?" Douglas asked softly.

"By the time I was born, the Prewett name was gone. Fabian and Gideon Prewett both died in the war around the time I was born, and neither of them had children. But, your granddaughter is one of the most amazing women I know. She's the best cook I know, and the kind of woman that I never wanted to get on the wrong side of."

"How'd you know her?" Douglas asked softly.

"She was my best mate's mum. She practically adopted me when she found out how rotten my muggle relatives were to me."

"So…so I do have a child? We—we've tried just about everything… Or is it Barty who does?"

Harry shook his head, "I got a look at Ron's family tree once, you have a son. Your son has two sons, Gideon and Fabian, and a daughter, Molly."

"And Molly had Ron," Douglas said, filling in the last blank.

Harry laughed, "Not just Ron. Charlie, Bill, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny."

Douglas smiled a bit, "Single-handedly taking on the Wizarding population decline?"

Harry laughed and shook his head, "No, just a family with a lot of love to share." Harry got quieter, "They lost one of them before I could defeat Voldemort. I want to keep that from happening if I can."

Douglas looked at him carefully, "Is this what you told Uncle Justus?"

"For the most part, yes. I didn't get into specific people with him.

"And he trusts you," Douglas looked at Harry carefully for a moment before speaking, "Alright, I approve."

Harry stood up and shook Douglas' had firmly. "Thank you. You have no idea how much your approval means to me. If only your father feels the same way…" Harry trailed off, still looking nervous.

Douglas clapped him on the back, trying to be reassuring, "Don't sweat it Harry! I mean, you got past Justus, he's the real hurdle after all!"

Harry smiled weakly as he opened the door, still fearing his talk with Rose's father.

"Ah, Henry," Barty said pompously, "I was wondering if you could show me where the men's room is from here?"

Harry nodded, and instead of sitting back down, led the other man out of the room.

"What is your game Potter?" Barty said instantly.

"I love your sister, and wanted to make that clear to your family," Harry said, surprised at the other mans hostility.

"I don't like you," Barty said, sneering at him.

"Well thank Merlin it doesn't matter what you think," Harry said, narrowing his eyes.

"What do you mean it doesn't matter?!" Barty snarled, "I'm her brother!"

"To me, the opinions that matter are Rose's, Justus', Douglas', Catherine's, and your Father's. While I'd hoped that we would get along, It isn't important compared to the rest. Here's the restroom. I trust you can find your way back. If you cannot, just call for Cheery." Harry walked back towards the dinner party, his back stiff from the confrontation. It had hurt him more than he let on that Barty had had that attitude, but he hadn't been lying when he explained who truly was important to him.

Harry stepped back into the room, and clapped his hands sharply for the empty dinner plates to be removed and replaced by desert.

"You truly outdid yourself," Esther said, beaming as she chose some trifle for her desert.

"Oh, I love tiramisu!" Mrs. Prewett exclaimed, taking a piece for himself.

Harry relaxed into the general atmosphere of the room. He didn't like Barty, and his feelings towards Buford bordered on hatred, but the room was filled with the kind of love you only get when a family that cares about each other is in one place. It had the same feel to Harry as the Burrow had before the war started.

As the deserts were being finished, Harry turned towards the man that he was currently terrified of in a way that he could not explain.

"Mr. Prewett, I understand that you enjoy smoking a cigar occasionally, and I just happen to have two with me. Would you like to step outside with me to enjoy these?"

"Of course Harry, that's very thoughtful of you," Ignatius said, rising from his seat.

"I have a cigar too, I think I'll join y—" Barty was interrupted by a glare from his older brother.

"Father is around us all the time, why don't you let him have a break for once," Douglas said casually, but with a look that made it plain that Douglas did not want Barty out there with them.

"Well, I suppose I could save this cigar for another time," Barty said, shifting uneasily under his brothers gaze.

"Well, since that's settled, shall we?" Harry said to Ignatius, leading him from the room.

"I trust Justus' judgment Harry. You don't need to prove yourself to me," Ignatius said once he was outside, "And this dinner party, and your speaking to my children has said a lot about your nature already."

"I appreciate that Mr. Prewett, but there's a bit about myself that I need to explain to you," Harry said, "But here, these cigars are for you. I don't smoke myself."

"Thank you Harry," Ignatius said. Taking one of them he bit off the end before lighting it up. "So what is it you need to tell me?"

In the length of time it took Ignatius Prewett to smoke two cigars Harry told the story that took one woman ten years to write. No one could say he was a wonderful storyteller, but he got everything pertinent across. After explaining his mission now that he was back in time.

"And what does my daughter have to do with this?" Ignatius asked, outwardly calm as he tried to absorb everything that Harry had told him.

"Well sir, Rose didn't factor into my original plans. I was going to come here, and help hurt children, and that was it. But I met Rose, and I fell in love. And with your permission, I'd like to ask her to marry me and to start a family of our own."

"You are a brave man Harry Potter," Ignatius said to him.

"Well, I was a Gryffindor," Harry said with a grin.

"Asking for my daughter's hand the first time we've met," Ignatius shook his head, and Harry started to look panicked. Seeing the glint of fear in his eye, Ignatius couldn't help but toy with the boy. "This is rather forward young man." Ignatius narrowed his eyes, "You aren't asking for my daughter's hand because you've gotten her pregnant, are you?"

Harry's fear turned to pure panic, "No sir, not at all, we've never done—that! Not at all!"

It was too much for Ignatius and her broke down laughing. "I'm sorry boy," He said as he noted the pained expression on Harry's face, "You just looked so scared that I'd say no. Justus approves of you, and I do to. Good luck Harry. Do you have a ring?"

Harry pulled a box out of his pocket. He snapped it open to reveal a sterling silver ring with delicate filigree and an amethyst in the center with a small diamond to each side. "It was my mother's engagement ring, and my grandmother's before that. I'm told it's been in the family for a long time."

"It's beautiful Harry. I think she'll like it." Ignatius said softly. "Although, if you ever run into the current Potters, you may have some explaining to do."

XxXxXxXxX

For some reason Rose was nervous about the date she was having with Harry. She hadn't seen him much that week. He'd found a toddler who was displaying magic who was being beaten by his muggle father on Monday. Construction of the school and orphanage had hit a rough spot and Harry had gone to smooth things over on Tuesday and Wednesday. Thursday night he had simply told her that he had business to take care of. Friday he'd spent with the young Black family, the children had grown close to him throughout the process of the trial. Today was the first time in a week that she'd be really spending time with him.

Harry was picking her up in five minutes to take her to an unknown location, and Rose still couldn't calm the butterflies in her stomach. She was smoothing down her purple dress once more, tying to dispel her nervousness when she heard a loud pop behind her. A house elf stood there holding a piece of paper.

"Master Potter said to give miss this," He said to her, holding out the piece of paper.

Rose brought it up to read it, expecting a note from Harry explaining that he was running late or couldn't come at all. But before her eyes could focus she felt the telltale wrenching feeling at her navel that indicated a portkey. She closed her eyes quickly, willing herself to not become motion sick, and braced herself for landing.

Rose found herself in the foyer of a French restaurant that Harry had taken her to a few times. Rose wasn't sure about how she felt about being portkeyed with no warning, but she did love when Harry thought up surprises. Rose approached the maitre d', crumpling the parchment in her right hand as she approached him.

"Bonsoir Philippe," Rose said, "And what does my beau have planned for me tonight?"

Philippe smiled slightly, a knowing twinkle in his eyes, "I'm supposed to tell mademoiselle to read the note that Monsieur Potter wrote her."

Rose lifted her hand up, blushing slightly as Philippe watched her uncrumple the parchment. Now that she looked at it, she recognized Harry's untidy scrawl. The message, on the other hand, was nearly undecipherable.

_It is delivered by breath_

_Scares heroes to death_

_But fear not, my love, for you are strong _

_Track down that which is mentioned here _

_The first of which is found... _

_Where dinner swims and waits for you._

Rose scowled, "What does this mean?"

"That's for you to decide, Mademoiselle," Philippe said with a small smile. Rose sat down on one of the benches in the foyer, and began muttering to herself.

"Delivered by breath. Words. Obviously that part is words. And these are words. Scares heroes to death… what kind of words can scare a hero to death? But I'm strong… track down that which is mentioned here… Heroes? Or words… do I have to look for words? But if they're delivered by breath how do I find them? Where dinner swims and waits for you. Ugh! Harry, what were you thinking? This is so frustrating!"

Rose let her gaze wander as she thought about the meaning of the words on the paper. "Stupid riddle…" she murmured as she watched dining couples in the restaurant, "If he hadn't written this bloody riddle I'd be eating with him right now." She pushed the grumpy thoughts aside as she wondered where she would find words in a restaurant. That's why she didn't notice the first time her gaze rested on the lobsters. The second time, however, made her feel like an imbecile.

"Where dinner swims and waits for you. The lobsters of course!" Rose stood up, and walked purposely towards the lobster tank, not noticing when Philippe silently followed her. As soon as she reached the tank she saw it. A small box, wrapped in parchment. She reached for it, and was about to tear the paper to shreds to get to the object before she noticed the words written on it.

_The friendship is above the neck _

_In the place of bureaucracy _

_Your name awaits you_

_Find him to claim the prize._

Rose read it through twice before sliding the box out of the parchment, revealing her favorite Honeydukes chocolates. She was biting into one when someone cleared their throat next to her.

"Does Mademoiselle need any help?" Philippe asked her.

"Can you solve a riddle for me?" Rose asked him half heartedly.

"I'm afraid that is against the rules," Philippe said with a chuckle.

"There are rules?" Rose asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Indeed."

"So what can you do?"

"I can give a hint, if you need it."

Rose sighed, scanning the riddle again. The first line made no sense to her, and the rest of the lines seemed too obvious. "I think I do."

"Each riddle will describe a place that you should be able to recognize and Apparate to."

"And why should I go through the bother?" Rose asked, her telltale temper beginning to show.

"Because, Mademoiselle, the prize at the end is more than worth your effort." Philippe's knowing smile was back, and it tickled Rose's curiosity.

Deciding that the obvious answer to the riddle was her best bet, Rose made up her mind to follow the riddles, "Thank you for your help Philippe." With that, Rose concentrated on her destination and apparated with a small pop to the front of the Ministry of Magic, the home of Wizarding Britain's bureaucracy.

She looked around for anything that could be a clue before seeing it. "My name awaits me," she said with a smile, reaching for the red rose that was laying in front of the door, with another note wrapped around the stem and tied with a ribbon.

_Galleons, Sickles, Knuts _

_No safer place, except a school _

_A warning emblazoned on the door _

_You'd be pleased, if you went there now._

This riddle was a so easy that Rose didn't waste a moment's thought before spinning in place and appearing in front of Gringotts with a pop. A book of love sonnets sat in front of the door, the piece of parchment marking the page to a particularly sappy poem. Rose giggled as she read the poem before turning her attention to the riddle. In spite of herself she was enjoying this.

_Ancient learning _

_Iron staves protect it _

_Seven years all up round _

_Remember you, those days well_

Rose found herself at the Hogwarts gates, untying a well worn Gryffindor scarf from around the front gate, and the note that was attached.

_School days, yet not _

_Weekends anticipated _

_A checkered blanket, a wicker basket _

_The first holds a place quite dear_

It took some thought, but Rose finally realized that it must be the spot outside of Hogsmeade—weekends anticipated indeed—where they'd had that memorable picnic. Picturing it, she apparated there, only to find a picnic basket with a note attached, but no one else.

_Touching you, yet holding us _

_Of flowers and vines in these places _

_A finger, a garden, both admired _

_Go there now if your heart be true._

It wouldn't have made any sense if a certain outing hadn't been fresh in her mind. Walking through Hogsmeade, Rose had seen and admired a house, but more specifically its garden, which somehow seemed to capture the idea of tamed wilderness. Harry hadn't admired the garden, instead admiring her fingers that she had just painted, saying that they had glittered in the moonlight. Rose pictured that house, and apparated there, eagerly anticipating the next riddle.

But when Rose arrived outside the house there was no note leaning against the front door. Deciding that it must be in the garden that she had admired, Rose walked around to the back.

The back held an outstanding garden, but that wasn't what drew Rose's eyes. There was a table set for two with floating candles around it set in front of breathtaking rose bushes, but that wasn't what drew Rose's eyes. Harry was kneeling, his hands holding a small, velveteen box, with a look of nervousness and excitement in his eyes. When their eyes met he spoke.

"Rose Prewett, will you marry me?"

"Oh Harry," Rose said, dropping the objects she carried, "Yes!" she cried as she flung himself into his arms.

After a joyous few minutes that left them both quite out of breath Rose spoke again. "How'd you convince the owner of this house to let us have this picnic back here?"

"Oh," Harry said nonchalantly, "It was simple really. I just set up the table and waited back here."

"You didn't ask first?" Rose was incredulous.

"Why would I?"

"You can't just picnic in someone's back yard without asking them first!"

"Oh," Harry looked remorseful. If Rose had been looking closely she would have seen that he was just pretending, "Rose, would you mind if I had a picnic in your back yard?"

"Of course I wouldn't, but this isn't _my _back yard!"

"Rose, would you mind if I had a picnic in _our _back yard?"

It took her a moment to grasp what he was implying. "Ours?"

"Ours," Harry said with a smile, withdrawing a set of keys from his pocket.

Rose grabbed the keys, eager to explore their new home, and Harry followed after her as she explored the house, both of them imagining what the place would be like once filled with the laughter of children.


End file.
